Shadowing a Ghost
by absentees
Summary: I had to obey three simple rules. One: whatever happens, make sure you don't end up dead. Two: only alter history when you have to. Three: find a way back home before time runs out. They didn't tell me what the consequences would be if I screwed up. And knowing me, I already royally did.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE: A BUTTERFLY EFFECT**

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, 2012

_Pitter-patter._

"Do you know why it is that you are here, young man?" A short pause followed, and I know that meant he was looking for my name, located somewhere on that clipboard of his written in an — most likely — unreadable handwriting. A frown was etched onto his face as he did so, his posture as stiff as a board. He probably must have been too proud to not ask me for my name a third time.

While the old man was busy flipping through the many sheets of paper he was forced to bring along, his only pair of glasses were hanging dangerously loose on the bridge of his nose. To waste some time, I started with looking around, taking in the conference room. Its walls were pristine white, somewhat boring. The only type of decoration in the large space was a plant standing in the left corner. For a million dollar company they sure had cut back on the minimalistic interior of the building.

I know Byzantium wasn't built to entertain in the slightest, no. The many floors that made up this company were designed to do one thing only: intimidate its visitors. Now having seen it with my own eyes, I had to agree. The internet was right about this joint; the images generated by search engines hadn't lived up to the full blown potential of the building.

_Pitter-patter._

The rain still hadn't stopped.

A gentle clicking of the old man's tongue made my head turn to look back at him, my gaze now removed from the soggy windows and the depressing weather. With appreciation in his green eyes he took in the papers scattered before him on the glass table. I just managed to see my résumé lying on top.

"So, Mr. Baines," he calmly continued, audibly clearing his throat, "to come back to my earlier posed question, do you know why you are really here?" A smile graced his tired face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

I chose my words carefully, knowing that one slip up was enough to get my ass kicked out of the program. Offering him a small smile I stated, "Well, sir, I was interested in the special program you offered to newer interns. The job details required students who have the acquired grades, and at the same time are willing to sacrifice free time for science." I absentmindedly ran a hand through my dark hair. "That's why I am here, Mr. Carter. To not disappoint."

The head researcher took a pen out of his briefcase, only starting with making notes after I had quit talking. The scratching sound of the writing tool hitting the paper reached my ears.

"I see," he continued, pushing back the rim of his glasses with his index finger. "And that does not take away the fact this program in particular offers extra credit, even going so far as to include a decent paycheck for a young man like yourself? Would you care to elaborate on that?"

My lips curled into a forced smile, knowing fully well he had me cornered there. "Sir, with all due respect, I am a student. The money doesn't exactly grow on my back. As for the extra credit, I figured the experience this program offers would be of much more use to me than the extra credit I can get. I do have to admit that it comes in handy."

"Interesting answer," Mr. Carter stated, dropping the pen unceremoniously on the table. "How could that bold statement possibly go unnoticed, eh? Well, Daniel, it looks like we've come to an agreement. It already was established with your previous meeting, and I assume without your knowledge."

That was when he slid two separate piles of paper over the table into my direction, his mouth curved in a thin and subtle line as he noticed my raised eyebrows. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms before he continued his talking.

"I've been informed that this is your second meeting here at Byzantium Incorporated. Am I correct, Daniel?"

A shiver ran down my spine as he used my first name, and it would be an understatement if I said that it bothered me. Looking over the contract intently, scanning the many clauses, I managed to nod my head twice in confirmation.

"Yes, that's right, sir," I answered, not bothering to look up from the papers just to meet his eyes. "The last time I was here was… exactly a week ago. Seems like you guys just love to be punctual."

I didn't know why I had said that, especially since I wasn't the best person to keep my wits hidden for people like him. And at the same time, it wasn't particularly meant to be a joke, either. So, I was glad that this didn't make him smile in the slightest, seeing as that sentence had been overrun with blunt sarcasm.

I also didn't know why I hadn't told him about another visit in particular, about a year ago. But that didn't matter. He didn't need to know about the dreams and nightmares I had as a kid — the sort that kept on coming back and left me bathing in cold sweat each night.

But the real issue at hand? I didn't like the guy. He seemed to scrutinize my every move, as if he was waiting for a mistake to be made on my part. It would be very poetic if I said that he had the gaze of a hawk, but I couldn't help but think that was true with each minute. To top it off, I was convinced that he didn't want me here. While pondering over this and simultaneously trying to flip the many pages of the contract, I didn't even notice his sudden presence beside the place I was seated. It didn't change until he tapped my shoulder, making an attempt at catching my attention.

Luckily enough for the old man, it worked.

"Daniel?" Mr. Carter drawled out in that annoying voice of his, seemingly adamant on getting a response out of me. "I asked you a question."

"And what was that, sir?" I retorted, my eyebrows in a light frown as I turned to look at him. "Mr. Carter, that contract of yours isn't something I can read in less than 10 minutes." I swallowed hard, fearing I had been a bit too blunt, a mumbled apology having followed quickly.

He let out a chuckle, patting my back firmly before returning to his seat at the far end of the table. He cast another glance at the papers lying on table before resuming the conversation.

"Never mind that, kid. I'm simply not used to people using that sort of tone in my presence," he explained, keeping my gaze level with his. The man then leaned forward into his seat, the tone of his voice dropping a tad. "You seem to be unafraid of the consequences. I admire that. It certainly is a trait you should keep, Daniel. You're not just an intern. And you aren't here for only the science."

Somehow, Carter's words did not sound that promising anymore to my ears. That earlier glint in his green eyes had disappeared, an unreadable expression now masking his aged face.

"This conversation can go two ways, Mr. Baines."

My mouth curled into an empty smile. "Back to the formalities, huh?" I remarked, but he didn't seem too happy with my interruption.

"Let me repeat my words to you, Mr. Baines," he resumed while clasping his hands behind his back, leaving his seat unoccupied just to walk around the room at a tedious rate. "The conversation we are having right at this moment can have two endings. Let's look at it from a different perspective, shall we?"

From that moment on, I knew I shouldn't mess with him. I could only scowl at him from the place where I was sitting. One glance directed at the corner of the conference room told me we weren't with just the two of us. The guard must have taken his place there sometime during whatever this… fucked up meeting was.

_Right_— as if I could take punches from a guy who looked as if he took steroids. Maybe I should have hit the gym more often in the past.

The old man's sudden question caught me off guard, a confused expression appearing onto my face as I discarded any previous thoughts of going to the gym. Screw that.

"If you were presented with the opportunity to relive history, Mr. Baines, would you?" he quietly posed.

I chose to gape at him with my mouth wide open, probably looking like a complete idiot. But I couldn't care less for that, the current issue being of much more importance as I recalled all I knew about it. For starters, time traveling was impossible. It was supposed to be impossible, a thing used for entertainment in movies. How many articles had I not read about that stuff before? However, it was that simple sentence which made the gears in my brain run in overtime. The look on Carter's face I saw was blank, but my gut instinct told me he was dead serious about it all. Very serious.

A short pause followed on my side. I blinked a couple of times for good measure. "…You're kidding me, right?"

"And we have a sceptic in our midst. Ironic," I heard him mutter to, probably, himself. He simply continued with shaking his head. "I am afraid not, young man. What I just told you isn't a lie. If it wasn't possible, I would never have chosen to become a scientist in the first place. But you did not answer my question. Would you be willing to, Mr. Baines? Would you want to defy all you ever thought to be true, altering decisions made in the past? Imagine what kind of positive things you could do for mankind, for certain individuals."

"Maybe," I started, hesitating a bit. "I… I don't know."

"Here I thought you would not disappoint me." Carter shook his head. "You could be a god."

Then I realized it. They hadn't told me what the exact specifics were of the intern program. The other time I had been here for business purposes, it had simply consisted out of a conversation in which I had to show my qualities, and sway the company to hire me. A few days later they had called me to come back for another appointment. I never got the exact details. So, it wasn't until now that I knew I was signing up to be an experimental lab rabbit, just for their sake.

I knew I couldn't trust him.

"Do you now know why you are here, Mr. Baines?"

"Yeah, I think I do." _Time to go._

I swiftly stood up from my chair, the movement apparently being hard enough to see the piece of furniture falling to the floor with a loud thud. I planned on hightailing it out of this building, making my way towards the elevators so I could leave. Sticking around wasn't an option. And it wouldn't have been an issue if that bulky guy hadn't blocked my only exit at the last moment.

I turned around to face the scientist, the adrenaline still rushing through my body. The need to wipe that grin off Carter's face was terrible, despite the mere attempt at it alone being pretty useless because of his private bodyguard. I could only spice up my vocabulary, scowling at the old man while I thought of a way to taunt him.

"You're insane," I bit back.

"Ah, aren't all scientists supposed to be insane? How else do we reach our goals in this world, our ideals?"

I then noticed the sound of heavy footsteps from the side coming towards me, but Carter's held up hand made his bodyguard still his movement. _For now_, I figured, daring to take a peek at the guy from the corner of my eyes before looking back at Carter.

"What the hell is it you want from me?" I couldn't help but sneer at him, following his movement.

Carter turned his back on me to look out the window, the rain still drizzling rather miserably. A mere snap of his fingers ensured that his bodyguard had a vice and painful grip around my right arm.

"You'll find out soon enough, _boy_."

That was all I heard before getting knocked out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hey y'all! So, this is my take on the 'time travel' aspect and whatnot. This is the introduction of the story; the fun should really begin in the following chapters. Please keep in mind that I'm writing this as I go, so updates will be most likely be sporadic. I also appreciate any kind of constructive criticism, or questions you might have.

Last but not least, I want to make clear that this story is based on the portrayals in the miniseries, not the real men themselves. Furthermore, I am only using the book as a reference to keep this story as historically accurate as possible.

Now, the disclaimer, which applies to the story as a whole:

_Anything related to the HBO miniseries and the book written by Stephen E. Ambrose is not owned by me. The original characters and any plotline you might not recognize are my creation._


	2. Jonathan Anthony Collins

**CHAPTER I: JONATHAN ANTHONY COLLINS**

The thin needle piercing my skin hurt, a soft groan escaping my mouth as a result. But instead of looking at the object in question, my eyes were drawn to the small pair of hands around my upper arm. The young woman's hold on it was surprisingly gentle; you could even say careful. It was a vast contradiction compared to the guard's vice grip I had the privilege of getting acquainted with hours before. Hell, it even could have been days ago, although I knew that was too big of a wager to make.

_What an ass,_ I reminded myself, wincing involuntarily as her fingers accidently put pressure on the bruise the guy in question had left behind.

"I'm sorry," she muttered to me as an apology, all the while fastening the strap of the damn needle thing with gingerly hands.

"For what?"

She merely fell silent, seemingly contemplating over her answer. "This… Everything."

Furrowing my brows, I replied with an uncharacteristic snort. "Right," I continued, staring her down. "That's easy for you to say."

Any kind of idea popping up in my head to start some small talk died after that comment, silence once again being the ultimate winner. Not that I was interested in talking with her so badly — company was a sight for sore eyes, especially when being locked away in a room hidden in a building, in the middle of somewhere. But I simply didn't bother to envy her position; she was lucky enough to not end up like me.

A lab rabbit.

As if suddenly burned, she removed her hand from my arm, lips pursed as her gaze settled on someone behind me. Standing up from her place next to where I was sitting, a single glance sent towards me as another apology, she silently exited the room.

I didn't need to turn around to find out who the person was who had just decided to enter the room in a quiet manner.

"Missed me, Carter?" I piped up, albeit my words weren't meant to humor him in the slightest.

He didn't offer me an answer. Instead, I heard him shuffle with his feet, calmly moving to take a seat across from me. Carter had his green eyes trained on me, looking at me as if I were just a prey to him. And technically speaking, he was right about that.

Carter began to talk, "I am fairly certain you were acquainted well with your grandfather, the one named Jonathan?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, expecting everything but this question. For starters, he had stepped out of bed with his wrong leg, seeing as this wasn't even close to the right assumption. Because of this, I kept wondering certain things. Carter seemed to know every little bit of info on me, even when they looked to be less than irrelevant at certain times.

I wondered how long I had been under their supervision, and why. Even more fucked up was the fact that I hadn't noticed their prying into my life. The idea alone that they had watched me and my family made my blood boil. The realization that I couldn't do anything against that was even worse.

_Two can play this game, old man._

"I'm pretty sure you've done your homework," I simply stated, a biting undertone to my words. "But to answer your question, no. I didn't know him, never even got to see him in person. I only know what my gran told me about him when he was still alive. So," I paused, pointing at the needle in my arm with my free hand. "Cut to the chase, will you?"

Carter nodded, seemingly content with my answer as a ghost of a smile lingered on his wrinkled face. "I did not necessarily mean it in _that_ way, Mr. Baines. Even though you might not have met him in flesh, just his grave, you have more in common with him than you are willing to think."

Confusing thoughts clouded my mind, enough to even deliver me a headache. His cryptic words left me agitated.

"Sorry to disappoint, Carter. But just what the hell are you getting at?"

"It's your DNA that speaks volumes, Mr. Baines. That is how simple it is," Carter continued. "As such, what we will do now— what _you_ will do is, in fact, very easy to understand. You will be induced into a coma while we will monitor your progress in the past. If all goes well and this program has been a success, you'll be free to return to your everyday life. History is a matter of simply waiting it out."

Listening to this long-winded explanation of his didn't help much in getting rid of the questions in my head. I just continued watching in Carter's way with a look that could kill. But even then the questions kept swimming in my head, such as what my grandfather had to do with Carter's gimmicks. But I couldn't think coherently anymore. Whatever the damn creep had done to me, it began to tire me out. Carter's obvious glance at his own watch told me he had been killing time, playing physiological mind games to mess with me.

_Dammit. Should have seen that one coming with the needle in my arm._

"You— you drugged me," I muttered, fumbling with and stumbling over my own words as the drug started to kick in. "…Now what, old man?"

Carter once again smiled, flashing his white teeth before saying, "Think of the question I asked you yesterday, Mr. Baines. That should give you an idea of what to expect when you are in that deep slumber. Either way, I do not expect for the transition to be… that much of a challenge. You most certainly will have to stick to the given boundaries. But then again, history is history for a certain reason. All you can and will do is perfecting it."

Standing up from his seat, Carter moved towards the exit. Immediately pausing at the door he turned around to look at me.

"Before I forget — you're not Daniel Alexander Baines back there. So, try not to get killed. Here you're already a dead man walking if you do."

I could only see a vague shade leaving the room before giving in to my subconscious.

* * *

><p>"<em>Daniel, do you hear me?"<em>

_[…]_

"_Trust me... You're going to be fine."_

_[…]_

"_Carter doesn't know it, but… I've left clues for you."_

_[…]_

"_Just trust me. You will recognize them when you see them."_

* * *

><p>CAMP TOCCOA, GEORGIA, 1942<p>

_Tick tock._

_Tick tock._

The sound of the clock ticking away leisurely got annoying with the second. My head was pounding like mad, and I know I had been bathing in my own sweat, noticing how clammy my skin felt to the touch. I wanted to know whatever caused this place to be such an oven; the temperature was running high, the heat uncomfortable. But for some reason my own body wouldn't even let me open my eyes. Everything was just strange, unfamiliar, foreign. I couldn't place the smells, or the sounds. Heck, I couldn't even recall that what my hands were currently grasping.

To put it bluntly?

I felt like shit.

A soft groan escaped my parted mouth, and I covered my face with my hands, seeing nothing but darkness. So far, I seemed to be all alone. No sign of company or whatsoever.

I didn't know if I should take that as a good thing or a bad thing.

Eyes finally open, I decided to stay put exactly where I currently was, lying lazily on my back as I blankly stared at the wooden ceiling. I had no clue as to where I could be, where I might have ended up. Of course—I had my fair share of guesses.

But further thinking had to wait.

I turned my head towards the barrack's door being opened, blinking a couple of times as I still felt drowsy. Heavy boots carried themselves to my bunk, and I came face to face with an expression of worry. Yet, that wasn't what struck me the most as odd. My gut instincts told me I _knew_ this guy. And my memory, how terribly vague, reminded me that I had seen him before. He just didn't fit the bill for any names that I had in mind, with his mop of dark hair and average height for a guy.

Just what the hell did Carter get me into?

"Holy shit, Jay."

I was too stunned to say anything back, instead choosing to sit up on the bed to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly I ran a hand through my hair.

"…Jay," I softly muttered, repeating this familiar sounding name, "Who's Jay?"

"Didn't know you went down that… hard," the guy continued, brows furrowed as he assessed me. "You're kinda looking pale, buddy."

_Jay_. That was when realization struck me: my name wasn't Jay. It was my grandfather's. Had I possibly switched bodies? Was that even a real thing? But how could I possibly say stuff about that to a guy who claimed to know me—I mean my grandfather? Yeah, that plan would totally work out just fine. I would be dead meat in a mere minute and shit would hit the fan. Besides, it didn't help that I couldn't think of the guy's name, at all.

I needed confirmation, making sure that I hadn't lost my mind just yet if I indeed was where I was. So, I decided to play along with the scientist's game, relying on my memory alone. Thus I silently cursed Carter, wherever he may have been at that moment. I didn't know why exactly, but I was willing to bet that he hadn't been born yet.

I blinked my eyes a couple of times. "Wait_—_what? What happened?"

_Hold up… did my voice just sound lower?_

The guy's face retained that frown for seconds until it broke out into a smile. However, the confusion showing on my face was completely genuine, and not fake. It took him a while to realize that, and his curled lips slowly but surely faltered and turned into a deadpanned expression.

He heaved a sigh, "You're not shitting me, huh?"

My attention span now fully directed at my grandpa's friend, I carefully shook my head in denial. The throbbing pain at the back of my head was still present as I replied with a slightly hoarse voice, "No. Not a joke."

I don't know how I managed to do it, but at the last moment his name came to my mind. Out of nowhere his name seemed so obvious now.

"Skinny, just cut the crap and tell me what happened."

_Bingo. Saved by the bell._

"…Right," Wayne Sisk started, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, it's nice to see you didn't forget my name. Come on, get ready; breakfast's still waiting. Then we'll go visit Doc, check that head of yours before Sobel's at it again." The smile had returned again, although it was just a smaller one as he led me out of the barrack into the hot and humid weather.

The sun luckily wasn't glaring down as we left the barracks, clouds blanketing the sky. However, a moan managed to escape my lips just at seeing the sheer amount of light outdoors. Instinctively I held my right hand above my eyes at an attempt to block out the light, still trying to keep up with Skinny. The warmth combined with my sluggish movement didn't do me much good either, and I noticed Skinny's watchful gaze from time to time. Growing up in California, the warmth had never been that annoying. I wondered if this was just a result from hopping 70 years back into the past.

Maybe. Most likely, however, it wasn't.

"Hey, fellas, look who came back from the dead!" Skinny announced with that infamous smile of his as we finally made it to the mess hall, the fellow firmly slapping a hand on my shoulder. He had a decent crowd at his disposal, with most of the available seats in the hall already occupied by hungry and eating G.I.'s. Random cheers reached my ears; some who were present even bothered with clapping.

I grimaced at Skinny's comment, my mouth curling into an awkward smile. If only the guy knew how ironic his words were.

"Jay, Skinny—over here!"

From the corner of my eyes I could see a different young man with brown hair waving us over, a cigarette casually dangling from his lips. I scanned the faces who were sitting with him at the table. Once again, that odd feeling of familiarity swept over me as I followed Skinny to the table. I had never met the men before, had never seen their faces anywhere, couldn't simply recall them. Whereas with Skinny — the guy with the infectious smile — it took minutes to find out his name, this time was different. For some weird reason I immediately could tell who the others were, where they came from.

I could only reason with myself that it was too early for this sci-fi stuff.

"Didn't know you could be such a lightweight, Sleeping Beauty," the same fellow with the cigarette in his mouth said, a very amused expression on his face. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but me and Perco had to haul your ass back to base when you managed to trip over your own feet. I also believe you were drooling along the way. Ain't that right, Frank?"

I snorted at his words, but not before gladly emptying the whole glass of water Skinny had placed before my nose in one go, along with a tray of… something that was once supposed to look like food. Now experimentally picking my fork through the grub, I made to answer, hearing some of the guys snicker. Thank you for being a smartass, George Luz.

"Luz, gimme a break, all right," I replied, pushing back the tray and deciding I wasn't hungry anymore.

It was only day one in good ole 1942, and already I was feeling damn peachy. Still, there were a few things nagging at the back of my mind.

First off, I somehow had landed in the body of 20-year-old Jonathan Anthony Collins, and play pretend was now the key to getting out of here. Even though I hadn't seen the physical evidence clearly in a mirror just yet, I knew it was obvious when the men addressed me with his nickname: Jay. So, this is why Carter had begun talking about Grandpa. Either way, I was stuck in his body, forced to relive what he went through. I just didn't get how… _real_ this all was.

Secondly, I had to rely on what stories Gran had told me, and the flimsy high school history classes. If it was enough to keep me alive, it would have to make do. Not like I had a different choice.

And thirdly, I was convinced that I was already going out of my mind. Keeping my appearance up was going to be hard, but hey— it isn't every day that you get thrown back into the past, right? I still didn't know why I recognized those guys, and I also didn't know yet how I managed to come up with their names.

I needed answers.

A soft-spoken voice woke me up from my thoughts.

"You okay, Jay?"

I quickly averted my gaze from the table that only now I realized I had been staring at, and I turned my neck to where the voice had come from. Across from me sat yet another guy with a mop of brown hair, neatly parted this time. His face familiar, he looked at me with the same gaze Skinny had given me earlier. But it wasn't just him watching me; I could feel the burning stares of the others as I prepared to come up with a perfectly fabricated answer.

_Yeah,_ I thought, _I'm perfectly fine, Shifty! I'm not in my own body and life has screwed me over. But, other than that, I'm good!_

Except, of course, I never said those words. Especially not to a guy such as Powers.

"I'm okay, Shift," I lied, ignoring the throbbing pain of my head. "Just feeling tired, that's all."

Another guy piped up this time, shaking his head in disapproval. "You don't sound all right for someone who managed to survive a tumble down Currahee," Floyd Talbert pointed out with yet another frown on his face.

So, apparently I hadn't been drunk but fell down a thing called Currahee, instead.

"George, you fuck," I muttered just loud enough for the guy in question to hear as a grin crept up on his face. But the amusement of his earlier joke instantly disappeared as the meaning of my words registered in his brain. I now knew I should have shut my mouth.

A deep frown marred his face and he put out his cigarette. "Wait a minute—you're telling me you can't remember what happened yesterday?"

I shook my head, once again attracting the attention of the other men sitting at the table. "That's not how I would say it, but—"

"Literally not a single thing?" George interrupted, the tone of his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

I sighed, "Nothing. Why?"

George only replied back with a curse word and an exasperated groan. This seemed to cause a domino effect around the table, various murmurs of disbelief laced with worry reaching my ears. I did nothing more than covering my face with my hands, wishing to shut out the unwanted attention and harsh whispers.

"Okay." Floyd picked up where he had left off, his mouth a thin stripe. "You know we run this mountain called Currahee, right?"

I nodded as a reply, finally remembering what Gran had once told about it.

"Well, you happened to trip over your feet while descending, hitting your head. And Sobel, our company's CO, was having none of it. He pretty much wanted you to run the whole thing again on your own, even though you were looking like hell." Floyd shrugged before continuing. "Then Winters ended up intervening, ordering Frank and George to bring you back to barracks. Glad he's a platoon leader."

A hum of agreement followed Floyd's statement.

Skinny was then the first to take action, patting my back as he stood up from the table. "Come on, bud," he started. "Doc's probably still waiting."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Finally, the first chapter!

Many thanks to _BobtheFrog_ and _cchickki_ for leaving a review so far; I'm glad you guys liked it. :)

The next update should be soon, I hope. I'm currently tackling college, so that's going to cut into my writing time, sadly. So, like I said, updates may be a bit sporadic. Anyways, until next time, and please feel free to review.


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